


The storm that's broken her

by BlackandPinkUnicornGuardian



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dark Daenerys, Dark Daenerys Targaryen, Dark Dany, Darkness, Despair, Episode: s08e03 The Long Night, F/M, HBO behind the scenes video "An act of love", Post-Episode: s08e03 The Long Night, Visions, jonsa, jorleesi - Freeform, jornaerys - Freeform, jornerys - Freeform, love after death, not a Mad Queen though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 03:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18682999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackandPinkUnicornGuardian/pseuds/BlackandPinkUnicornGuardian
Summary: Daenerys is left heartbroken and alone in this world by Jorah's heroic and romantic death. Her descent into darkness is inevitable, and her soul is swallowed by it.Jon and Sansa will do their best even in this situation.I also made some "artwork" (sort of) that explains the background of this fiction and completes it:https://felixthemudnescat.tumblr.com/post/184581634242/in-memoriam-a-true-love-in-the-asoiafgot-saga





	The storm that's broken her

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by our bear's marvellous and heartbreaking death scene, by the official "behind the scenes" video "An act of love", by Dark Dany, and by an amazing Sansa, here is to you "the storm that has broken Daenerys Stormborn".  
> Be warned: there is a lot of sweetness and romantic passages, but the overall tone is very, very dark, especially for jorleesi/jornaerys/jornerys. The jonsas will probably find the darkness more bearable.  
> I repeat: it's dark, features a shocking turn of events. and it's not for everyone. You have been warned! Definitely not everyone's cup of tea.  
> P.S. sorry I "disappeared". Self-employment changed my life. I promise to finish my two best-rated fics!  
> I also promise I will do a more cheerful short fic about Jorah's death as well.

_I've been around this world, yet I see no end._

_All shall fade to black again and again._

_This storm that's broken me, my only friend._

_In this river all shall fade to black_

_In this river ain't no coming back_

**_In this river_** , by Black Label Society

 

“ _Khaleesi_ , the time has come.” They called. She stood up and followed them without discussion or resistance. In fact, she even smiled eerily at the men who escorted her.

The guards had been carefully instructed beforehand. She was not a queen anymore, but she still was a _khaleesi_. Granting her the use of that title was not only proper courtesy, even given the circumstances, but also the utmost kindness, given what had happened to the woman still barely hidden inside that shell. A brief reminder of what used to be, and of what could have been, if only…

It was no use thinking of what could have been.

* * *

 

It had all begun months ago, in the night that marked a new beginning for all survivors. Maybe the problem was that Daenerys was not a survivor. Not anymore.

To think that he had suffered because he was raised as a bastard. Then he had felt bitterness and disappointment because his life had brought him to the Wall to take the black. Later he had felt not at ease with himself because he had been a traitor, and had felt bitterness, uselessness, and despair when he was betrayed in return. Moreover, on top of all this, he had died, witnessed the void and darkness beyond, and was then called back to resume the fight.

After that night, he had slowly come to realize that he was the one who had it all. A father – an adoptive one, but still a father. A castle, a family – albeit imperfect. A new father figure in Jeor. Many real friends, and worthy enemies, and mentors on both the friend and the enemy side.

And now he had gained a third life. And he was finally free to make the most of it.

She, on the other hand, was an orphan left alone with an instable brother and sent into exile and poverty. She had known violence and exploitation. Then she had gained followers rather than friends.  Her only exception: a fellow exile who had become her teacher, mentor, friend, protector, insufferably arrogant. Her everything. She had realized too late that he was her one true love. The only real love of her life. The one who had defeated death once obeying her command, and the one who had arrogantly kept death waiting only to keep his oath and to keep his love safe.

Not the brute who had bought her, not the lovers who had simply shared a bed with her when they could, thus convincing her that what they shared was enough to claim to love and be loved. Only Jorah had been love.

He was doing her a kindness. She was already in the darkness, but in a painful one. A painful one for her and for other people as well.

* * *

 

That night when it all began, a desperate symphony of wails, cries and sobs, and a single loud and melancholy screech tore the darkness. Silence should have finally reigned, if not relief or joy. Some survivors from Winterfell ran to see what the cause of it was, fearing what they could find: maybe a threat that had no magical connection to the defeated enemy and had therefore survived Arya’s dagger. Jon joined them, fearing instead what could have happened to the dragons, or to someone else due to the dragons.

Upon hearing the small group of survivors, led – once again – by Jon, Drogon let out another screech. A painful screech, again. Then a sound resembling a growl, a sort of warning not to make things worse than they were. Or at least Jon interpreted it so. It was, after all, his task to communicate with the dragon in order to go near her.

\--

“I don’t think she has heard us.”

“Well, she hasn’t even seen us.”

“Should we take her away? She will freeze if she stays here.”

“I have seen people react like that. You touch her, she’ll probably hit you, or bite you, or kick you in the…”

“ENOUGH!” Jon knew he would have to be in charge, again. He watched Daenerys for a while, and listened.

The cries and the sobs were the most painful and desperate thing he had ever heard. Amongst wordless weeping, he recognized a few repeated words.

“ _Jorah!”_ “ _No, no, no!”_ _“Oh, my love, my heart.”_ _“Don’t leave me!”_ _“I need you by my side. You had promised…”_

It would have been easy to feel relieved that one of the most difficult conversations due was rendered quite brief and straight to the point. Easy, and comforting. Nevertheless, Jon could not help but feel sorry for a broken heart and soul, for a young woman left alone.

Then suddenly Jon had the first hint that things were beyond his comprehension, because Daenerys did not react _at all_ to his gentle touch and to his repeated _Dany_ s.

Well, if there was something Jon had learned, after all, it was compromising, and making up things. “Dany, let us all go inside. Jorah can come as well. Lyanna is waiting in the courtyard. No, no, you don’t have to let him go.”

* * *

 

He should have known from the absent and lopsided smile she wore while confirming the plans for the attack to King’s Landing.

Unfortunately, he had dismissed _everything_ as being the manifestation of her own private, interior world. A world he and Sansa thought was necessary to her to cope with her loss. However, at least Sansa had shown some opposition to the idea of letting _a deeply grieving widow_ take part into the attack. He hadn’t missed the way Sansa had smirked when uttering that his aunt was a “deeply grieving widow”. He had even smiled broadly at her: how could he not, when she was being that cheeky and snarky, all the while wearing an air of adorable superiority? But then, there was the question of what to do with his aunt: leave her free to stay out of war and politics, roaming the North in solitude with her dragons? Would that be an option?

That was the reason why, when Daenerys started referring to Jorah as to someone who was still living, or when she plainly started to talk to her lost love in the presence of others, they decided to let her be, to let her talk, to let her cope, and wait for her to adjust. Especially because in those moments she was calmer.

At first.

It was even bitterly sweet, most of the times:

“My bear. Of course. I know what you think of this. I remember. No need to be that gruff, Ser! Although I have missed your gruff reprimands, I have to admit!”

In other moments, however, she got furious at her bear.

“You left me here, alone. Now you want me to listen to your advice? You want me to relent my crown? Or you want me to postpone my conquest? And why should I listen to you? Didn’t I once tell you I needed you by my side? It is all your fault! No, you knew you were not allowed to die!”

If only Jon had really known… if only. But she was alone, alone with her ghosts. She had managed to banish the ghost of Drogo, who now appeared as an utter disappointment to her, and that of Viserys, but she could not and would not banish Jorah, ever. Her bear, her love, always true to his word. A little elusive, as of late, so that was why she sometimes got furious at him.

 _“My fall will be for you_  
_My love will be in you_  
 _If you be the one to cut me_  
 _I'll bleed forever_

_Bring me home or leave me be_   
_My love in the dark heart of the night_   
_I have lost the path before me_   
_the one behind will lead me”_ **[1]**

“It is done. It is done, and now we all must live with it,” she had said as a justification. His angry, violently sarcastic remark had been that _no_ , many people had died already instead of _living_ , and not all of them would have to live with it in the future. Even Sansa had scolded him for his loss of control. “It’s simply not done, my dear. You are a king now. Let them see royalty, not a rough commander from a Northern wasteland.”

\--

The time had come, indeed. His main source of comfort was that he was probably far more nervous and terrified than she was. Seeing her appear in front of him like that confirmed it. With that calm but eerie smile on her face, eyes looking upon a world that was not here, utterly ignoring the rain coming down. That rain marked the end of a winter and the promise of a spring she would never see. Or maybe she was already seeing her own spring, somewhere with her Jorah.

_“You're here again_   
_Before my eyes,_   
_A ghost within a dream._   
_Things that you do and say_   
_Just kill me every time._   
_Is this how, how it will stay._

_By the river I walk and wander on_   
_I'm a warrior on a journey home._   
_Will you show me the way to you once more_   
_Always yours, ghost in the rain._

_I wish I could undo_   
_My great mistake_   
_And say the words unsaid._   
_Obsession grows like flames_   
_Time only makes it worse_   
_It hurts yet I'll be strong._

_By the river I walk and wander on_   
_I'm a warrior dreaming of lost love._   
_Will you open the door to me once more_   
_Always yours, ghost in the rain_

_The wind will bring a gentle storm_   
_Under the pain for more_   
_Facing my destiny_   
_A neverending story_   
_Survivor is coming home.”_ **[2]**

As the men had promised her, here was the sign, the confirmation that she was indeed going home to Jorah. Oh, and to little, fierce Lyanna as well, who was keeping him company, probably taunting him or delightfully getting on his nerves, only to prompt a wise and gruff suggestion or scolding. The shining blade of Longclaw was glistening in the rain, the beacon that was calling her home.

She smiled broadly again at Jon, and at Sansa, Arya, and Gendry who were standing straight and still a few steps behind to support him.

" _For willingly proceeding to attack the population of King’s Landing with dragon fire, despite evidence pointing to the dangers posed by this choice. For alliance betrayal, multiple manslaughter, willful omission of crucial details during a previous trial… In the name of Davos, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Six Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, I, Jon of House Stark, King of the North, sentence you to die._ "

With that same eerie smile, she lifted her Dothraki braid herself, freeing the neck, and knelt, as Jon both dreaded and hoped she would.

\--

Sansa offered him her hand, and smiled. “Jon, it’s time to go home. Winterfell awaits.”

 

[1] _Ghost love score,_ by Nightwish

[2] _Ghost in the rain_ , by Beast in Black.

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this in a hurry. I will be grateful for any proofreading/editing suggestion!  
> I hope you did not find the whole thing too disturbing!  
> The choice of the Onion King is due to the fact that I have been spilling as I do when cutting onions since seeing Lyanna's and Jorah's death scenes - by the way, both amazing scenes in an episode that left me wanting.


End file.
